


Made in the Milling: The Sadie Miller Story

by KriegsaffeNo9



Category: Achewood, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Great Outdoor Fight, Blood and Gore, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Recreational Drug Use, Slurs, Swearing, The Great Outdoor Fight, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriegsaffeNo9/pseuds/KriegsaffeNo9
Summary: You know that thing where a dying guy passes on his MacGuffin and things get really complicated?  Sadie Miller just had that trope waltz into her life.  She's got a ticket to the Great Outdoor Fight--three days, three acres, three thousand men, all vying to see who is the best fighter.  Can she even dream of making it to the Acres, much less survive, much less win?  Only one way to find out--and all of Beach City is getting in on the game.Debatably* a feel-good story about personal achievement through ass-kicking.  Definitely extremely profane and bloody.  Technically an AU splitting off from when Peridot was in her "toilet goblin" phase.  Crack fic?  At points, literally.*Somehow autocorrected to "detestably" even though this was posted from a computer.  How..?





	1. The Battle of the Big Donut

**Author's Note:**

> This lil' bastard has been burning a hole in my hard drive for some time now. To give some perspective, that bit about it being an AU budding off from when Peridot was living in the bathroom? Was around when I started writing this in an explosion of inspiration not unlike my LWA fiction elsewhere on this site.
> 
> Partially archived over at Fanfiction.net, I decided to port what I got over here. Not all at once, but doling it out in segments, in part because I needed something to get my brain slowing down at an ungodly hour and going through the motions of putting something on Ao3 is becoming a nice, calming ritual, and in part because I like this weird, weird story and need to eventually finish this som'bitch. And when inevitably I actually get back to original fiction I'll need something to assure people I've not vanished completely.
> 
> Also, if you haven't read Achewood, read Achewood. s'good man

On that day, a sweaty-smelling hobo entered the Big Donut at around nine thirty in the AM. Sadie popped a smile, breathed through her teeth, and said, "Hi, welcome to the Big Donut! Take your time, we're open 'til 9 pm."

"Ah... yes," the hobo said. He was a tall, broad-shouldered guy, wearing a weathered army jacket, an old black armband, and well-worn boots patched with duct tape and spare leather. His beard, however, was immaculate and shining in the florescent light of the Donut. "Do you perhaps have any donut holes, young lady? Glazed ones?"

"Of course, sir. They're a buck a dozen. Actually, it's kind of a logarithmic scale..."

"Just gimmie as many as you got. I'm good for it."

"Alright! This'll take a minute, I'll need to fire up a graphing calculator app."

The hobo nodded along, pulling out a tightly-wrapped plastic bag from his pocket and counting out change. Sadie wondered if it was okay to dread the next ten minutes, or if that was somehow crossing a line. By the time he'd calculated the cost of four dozen ($6.16) Lars had finally finished making the decaf coffee. He gagged at the hobo's smell.

She poured the donut holes out into a box. "Would you like any coffee, sir?" she said.

He pondered a long moment. "Not today, I think. I will have a glass of your free water, instead."

"Alright, sir!" Sadie said, setting the donut hole box next to the cash register. "Ready when you--" She'd hardly begun sorting the change before the door jingled open. "Just one moment, please!" she shouted, not exactly able to see over the hobo's shoulders at who came in.

A loud _bang_ sent her heart flying into her throat. The hobo fell to his knees, bracing himself against the counter. Behind him, a slim man in a hunting vest and khakis lowered a zip gun made from an iron pipe. He popped it open and tapped a smoking shotgun shell out of it.

"OH MY GOD WE'RE GOING TO DIE," Lars said, leaping to cover behind the counter.

Sadie's eyes flit between the hobo's breath leaving flecks of blood on the counter and his attacker sliding a new shell out of his vest pocket and into his gun with an easy, measured gesture. "That's far enough," the attacker said.

"Stop," Sadie said, not believing how firm she sounded. "Don't hurt him."

"Girl, this is going right through his head. He won't be hurting for long."

He leveled his gun at the hobo's head, and Sadie ripped the cash register from its mount and hurled it at the attacker's arm, not breaking his arm but severing it at the elbow. The register hit the floor with an apocalyptic clatter of shrapnel and coinage. The attacker barely had time to squeal before Sadie had pounced over the counter and at his chest, sending him to the ground. She grabbed his head and ripped it clean off. Well, not clean; flappy tatters of skin and connective tissue dangled from his head, and every drop of blood in his body painted the floor and front door in a series of powerful spurts.

She realized she was about to bite into his head and eat his brain, squealed in shock, and threw the head aside. When she realized her kneeling on the attacker's chest was helping pump out more of his blood, she scrambled off, bumping into the wounded hobo. "Oh God oh God oh God I'm sorry I'm sorry please be okay mister," she said, descending into panicked sobbing.

The hobo smiled, trying his best to keep his head up. "Miss," he said, "you've bought an old man a few more minutes. I appreciate it. I truly do."

Lars, not having found his testicles but remembering he was supposed to have them, lunged for the emergency phone, dialing 911.

"I didn't mean to kill him, but he was trying to kill you, I just... it just... it just came to me..." Sadie said. "Please say you're gonna make it. Please?"

"My time's come," he said. He took a deep breath and gently tugged his armband off. His strength was fading; he could just barely drop the band to the floor. A large, folded piece of paper was tucked in a loop inside. "It's up to you now, lady."

"...what's..." Sadie said.

"My fight... it's yours now. Bakersfield. The Acres. You have it in you. You're made in the milling. I can tell."

"I don't know what you're saying," Sadie said.

"You will... in time." He rested his head against the counter. "Wish I'd had some of those donut holes. I bet..." He trailed off, his eyes fluttered closed, and he was gone.

The numbness in her chest and head flowed into her whole body. Dimly, the realization that she had murdered a man and bore witness to another man dying was lighting great oil-fires of panic somewhere inside her head. But something else, stronger than panic, was guiding her hand to the armband, to the ticket inside. Through tears, she read:

"This ticket authenticates  
RICHARD HEAVEN  
for placement in the 2016  
GREAT OUTDOOR FIGHT."

* * *

When the police arrived, one of the cops looked the ticket over. "And you said you killed this man?" he said.

Sadie nodded, unable to speak the word.

The cop looked at the ticket, looked at the armband, sighed, and said, "You're off the hook. If it's GOF, it doesn't count."

"...Doesn't... count?" Sadie said. The EMTs cautiously led Richard's body out the front door on a stretcher.

"Nope. It's just the cost of doing business." He handed the ticket back. "Richard Heaven, huh? That's a hell of a name to live up to."

"I don't know what the flying fuck is going on," Sadie said, as if she were saying the weather was okay.

"I suggest looking it up," the cop said. "And good luck. And I'd suggest just going home. We'll clean up, I know a guy."

Lars waited outside, sipping from a Cross Country Cup full of coffee. He handed Sadie another. "Well, that was pretty fucked," he said. "You wanna go home? Yours, mine?"

Sadie let her drink's heat spread from her hand to her arms to her chest.

"...Are you alright?" Lars said. "I mean, less alright than you were before, which I guess isn't that... alright. Damn I'm bad at this."

"Lars," Sadie said, "who in town knows weird stuff the best?"

* * *

"Dad, what's the Great Outdoor Fight?" Steven said.

"Oh, found one of my ol' Fight books, huh?" Greg said. He was busy checking the de-icer for the car wash's feed system. It was his biggest expense in the winter months, and every issue caught early was precious cash earned. "It's about time you did, anyway! Every growing boy needs to learn about it." He stepped out of the wash. "Oh, hey, it's those donut shop guys, too. Hey there."

Sadie freed the armband and ticket from a parka pocket, handing them over. Greg read the ticket, re-read it, re-re-read it, and began hyperventilating. "Oh my God!" Greg said, "Richard Heaven gave this to you?! How? Does God love you? Or does he really hate you but has a funny way of showing it? Did you kill him to get these? Did you--"

"Reel it in, old man," Lars said. "I've never heard of it, Sadie's never heard of it, and it looks like Steven hasn't either. The hell is it?"

Greg cleared his throat. "Short version, long version?"

"Can we get a medium version?" Steven said. "Ooh, oh, or a song!"

"Well..." Greg said. Lars made a "speed up" gesture as hard and fast as he could, and well above and behind Steven's head. "I'd have to get my guitar, and that's in the van, and my hands are wet--so I'll just give you a quick acapella rendition." Lars made a strangled scream. "A-hem!" Greg strummed an invisible guitar and launched into a brisk country tune:

"'Twas the hardest times of the Great Depress  
When bored and under great duress  
Our hero rounded up his men  
And settled it all there and then:  
Who among us is the best  
When it comes down to the test  
Of fist and kick and headbutt strong  
To fight this battle three days long  
In this barn--"

"GET TO THE FRICKIN' POINT!" Lars screeched.

"Fine, fine," Greg said. Steven pouted. "So the Great Outdoor Fight is an annual three-day tournament in the Acres, all the way in Bakersfield, Califerne. It's been going on since 1923 and nothing's stopped it. Not even getting completely torched to the ground by the Son of Rodney in 2006! And now--" Greg grabbed Sadie's hand. "You're gonna be a part of it. That's huge! There hasn't been a lady fighter in since 2009, God rest her soul if He can find it."

"Wonderful," Sadie said, patting at sweat. "And, uh, do you know who it is who gave me the ticket?"

"Of course I do. Richard Heaven is one of the longest-running fighters in history. He's been fighting every year since World War II ended! He's never won, but he always puts in a good show." He realized something. "So, uh, how'd you get his ticket?"

"A guy shot him," Sadie said. "Then I killed that guy with my bare hands and a cash register, and Richard gave me his ticket and armband and said to fight."

"...Oh. Damn. I mean darn."

"I know you meant darn!" Steven said, patting his dad's knee.

"So one of his enemies finally got to him, huh? He had a bunch. Guess one of 'em decided to cheat." He doffed an invisible hat and planted it over his heart. "Good night, sweet prince. Man, that's a lot of responsibility you got layed on you."

"You're telling me. Can we go inside? It's cold."

"Sure, sure! I got coffee, you're gonna need to sit... and, uh, you know, maybe get over the murder..."

Greg walked the teens into the wash's waiting room. Steven tarried behind, waiting for Connie to come back from hiding the chainsaw.

* * *

"So, it's simple enough: once those gates open and you go through, the game begins!" Greg took the opportunity to pull out his box of Fight memorabilia: books in varying degrees of mustiness, rolled posters of ancient vintage, buttons and souvenirs and a few sealed holy artifacts--teeth, fingerbones, an eyeball. "No guns, no weapons that were designed to be weapons, and you're good to fight until you fall unconscious, beg for mercy, or are totally out of it for more than ten minutes. That's the basics, anyway."

Sadie leered at a Great Outdoor Fight cookbook. "How did I never hear about this before?"

"Well, do you know who won the last big world... soccer... thing?"

"No?"

"Whole cities are razed to the ground over how the soccer super bowl turns out, but Americans don't 'do' soccer. And Beach City doesn't 'do' the G-O-F."

"...shit, that makes too much sense," Sadie said. "So, uh, killing people isn't mandatory?"

"Naw, though it happens. Kind of hard to avoid. There's not much you can do that's against the rules, except, uh, pro-tip, if it's down to you and someone you don't want to beat the shit out of, decide if you'd rather fight them or the Jeeps."

"The Jeeps?"

"They're Jeeps. That come out and run you over if you can't settle the last fight like a man."

"Oh. So it's not like a title, it's actual Jeeps."

"That they run you over with."

"That they run you over with," Sadie said. "Jesus Lord."

"Yannow, in a way, it's really beautiful! It's as pure a competition as there ever was. Just enough rules to count, you and your fists... you gotta make friends, knowing you may have to put them down yourself if you wanna win... it's like one'a those, uh, microcosms they talk so much about, like all the Earth is in one three-acre lot and everybody's fenced in and you have to fight 'til you're the last one standing by taking every last resource available and never wholly trusting anyone. ... You know, putting it like that, I have no idea why Rose was just as big into it as I am."

"Mom liked the Fight?" Steven said, stepping out of the restroom. He was techncially hanging out in the van with Connie, Greg deciding the Fight was a bit too violent for him.

("When you're older, maybe with a stronger stomach, too."

"But I love Lonely Blades I through XIV! And most of the XXes!'

"There's a difference between a few gallons of red corn syrup and actually seein' Rodney Stubbs--er, doing his thing. Now head out there and hang with Connie. Keep yer pants on, alright, killer?"

"Sure thing, it's really cold anyway!")

"Your mom was a hell of a lady," Greg said, wistful.

"I bet she was," Steven said, excusing himself back outside. Thoughts were forming.

"And here I am getting sentimental when I should be helping you out!" Greg said.

"Like, say, helping her come up with a good reason not to go?" Lars flipped a book around, revealing a truly hideous photograph of a post-GOF fighter. "She's never fought anything but a big invisible monster and that guy she--you know--took out and stuff."

"Giant invis... oh, yeah, the island thing a few months ago. Steven mentioned that! Huh..." Greg scratched his beard to show that he was thinking very hard. He really was, at least. "You know, Sadie, Fight aficionados have a phrase for people like you."

"Is it 'made in the milling?'" Sadie said. She took a sip of her now-just-warm coffee.

"Yeah, exactly!"

"Because that's what Mr. Heaven said to me before he died. That I was 'made in the milling.' What's it mean?"

"Means that you're naturally a fighter. You didn't train to hit people, you weren't on eat-a-face drugs. When the time came to fight, you fought hard as you could like the very hand of God was guiding you, I mean I presume that's what it felt like and all. Did it? I've always imagined it would."

Sadie tried to remember how it felt in the moment. It hurt to think about, and trying to find where her mind was felt like kicking a sleeping panther. "It was... I don't know what it was like. I saw what was happening, I saw him just shoot Richard in the back, and... and it got me... I don't know what it got me. I just did what felt right. It sort of just... happened."

"Huh! Thinking about it, that's kinda scary, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"But at least it felt right."

"I... guess."

"Yannow, my parents used to say, 'if it feels good, it is good. Don't be afraid of your own body.' They got that from a porno, but that's beside the point. Think of it like this, Sadie." Greg sifted through the memorabilia. "Sometimes the world throws us a curveball, and we can either let it hit us, or we can move with it, and something amazing can happen. For me, it was meeting Rose, then it was having Steven, then finding out Steven's definitely putting himself in mortal danger every day for the good of mankind. I don't gotta tell you I've had sleepless nights and a few heart attack scares, but, really, can anyone else say that their kid literally saves the world once a week, give or take a few busy weeks and some months of downtime?"

Sadie bit her lip. "But that's saving the world. This is beating people the hell up."

"It's... okay, yeah, it's mostly about beating people up. But it's also about finding a strength in you that you never knew you had. And using that strength to beat the hell out of 2,999 other men."

"I... I'll have to think about it." Sadie sighed.

"You've got some time. I'm sure you'll come to a decision," Greg said. "And I know I've just spent like twenty minutes selling you on it... but it really is your own decision, Sadie. I think you'll make the right one, even if the right decision is not going."

"Man, you just had to put it like that, huh?" Lars said. He tossed the book back into the box.

"I think I need to take a walk," Sadie said, hopping off her chair and zipping her parka back up. "Come on, Lars."

"Sure, let's. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Universe."

Greg waved the two off. "Man..." he thought. "I sure hope she decides to go through with it."

In his van, Steven was drawing a map. "...so, if we time it right, it'll only take Lion three of those super portal jumps to get us to the Acres. Then if we fuse into Stevonnie, we'll look like a grown-up and we can go in and fight!"

"You sure it's a good idea?" Connie said. "I mean, we're kinda really strong when we're Stevonnie. We'd be cheating."

"If it's anything like wrestling," Steven said, "then all we have to do is get some guys in leg locks or Boston crabs and we'll be set! Trust me, wrestling is super fun, and it's not like we're fighting monsters or the Homeworld."

Connie shrugged. "Well... it does sound pretty fun. We just have to figure out what we're gonna tell our parents."

"I have just the plan," Steven said, giving her finger guns. "You might say we have a... sporting... chance!"

"...So, like, saying we're going to a sports camp? In February?"

"Yeah! There's a free jai alai camp open around then! I found a brochure at Fish Stew Pizza. We'll make out like fighting bandits! Ooooh, maybe that's Stevonnie's theme! We can make a mask, maybe some... wait, wait a minute, I've got to get some emergency crayons."

"You do that, I'll brainstorm the backstory. And we're gonna need a name," Connie said. "A different name. And, uh. are we gonna say Stevonnie is one thing or the other, like, you know..."

"Like what?" Steven said.

"Never mind," Connie said. Frankly, she didn't think about it too hard either.

* * *

The waves churned tonight, the wind sending spiky froth blowing toward the beach. It had been a long, quiet day, Sadie walking through it in a haze of indecision. The beach seemed as good a place to hide as any, sitting on a beach towel and hugging her knees, letting the frozen spray bead on her face.

Hours ago, after parting ways with Lars, she'd hiked home, brought the ticket and armband to her room, hidden it under the pile of teddy bears, and hoped that her mom hadn't heard anything on the news.

"Sadie, sweetums, the news said you killed a guy today!" her mom, throwing open her door. "Are you doin' okay?"

"I'm fine, mom!" she shouted. "It was rough, but I'm alright now."

"Arright, good to hear. I got General Tso's!"

"Thanks, ma."

It was good Tso's.

So here she was, facing the beach, belly full of ideas, as absolutely unsure of anything as she had ever been. Thinking about college gave her palpitations. Thinking about a career made her want to find a gas station that didn't card and get wasted on bum wine. Maybe going to Califerne and fighting thousands of people because some guy had the bad luck to die in her store... she'd rather be getting a career at college right now.

She closed her eyes and listened to the surging of the waves, the distant cries of insomniac seagulls.

She hoped against hope that her mom had learned her friendship lesson from last time. She hoped that she wasn't secretly a psycho killer who just needed an excuse to pop off. She hoped that she could make any kind of decision at all.

"God," she said, "you're not real, but humor me for a minute. What should I do?"

The wind and the sea answered: a bottle glinted in the starlight not far away. She rocked onto her feet, hiked across the slushy sand, and fetched it. She brushed sand from its cork, wrenching it out with her bare hands. She tapped out the rolled-up slip of paper within. Her heart pounded. What did this mean?

She unrolled the message. In 30-point Comic Sans was printed the phrase "kill urself fagot."

She crumpled the page and gave the moon a mean glare. "Fuck you, God," she said, eating the message. "You wanna poke Sadie Miller with a stick? Well here's what you fucking get!" She hurled the bottle directly at the moon. It hit a seagull, glass and gull alike exploding.

Sadie considered the seagull's minced remains as they alit on the sea. She supposed she should have felt guilty, but seagulls, like God, could go fuck themselves.

"Good shot," someone said. It took her a moment to recognize the voice.

"Hey, you're... Garnet, right?" Sadie said. "One of Steven's alien buddy-moms?"

"Guilty as charged." She was unfolding a beach chair just a few yards down the beach. "How are you doing?"

"I'm... getting along. Aren't you cold in that skintight outfit thing?"

"I'm only cold if I want to be." She took a seat. "I heard you've had a rough day."

"You and probably everyone else. Has any word got out about the ticket and everything?"

"The what?" Garnet lay a second lawn chair down.

"Okay, so that didn't make the news." Sadie took the seat, wondering vaguely where Garnet had gotten it. She gave her a quick rundown of the situation.

"Hm. Sounds intense." She tapped out some aromatic weed from an ancient-looking tin onto fresh wrapping paper. Again, no idea where she got them from.

"That's one word for it, yeah. So I've just been out here angsting about it and killing a seagull. I mean, did you hear any of that?"

"I did, yes." Garnet took a long, slow drag off of her cigarette, holding it in a good long time, before letting it billow out of her mouth in a series of thick clouds. "We all have our moments where we wish we could find the omnipotent creator of the universe and strangle them with their own intestine for the temerity of creating a flawed existence just because he likes to be inscrutable. I hope you understand this is not a tenable emotion."

"Yeah. I just had to, ya know, work it out."

"Of course. Life is stressful. We all have our valves. I can't smoke with Steven in the house, you understand, and if I smoke around Pearl, she takes it as a sign that she can drink, and then she gets drunk, and then she starts calling Amethyst 'the purple N-word.' And if I smoke around Amethyst, she finds out where I keep my weed and eats it."

"Uh, on that subject..."

"I grow it myself. I have plenty." She offered Sadie the joint.

"Thanks, man." She took a nice long draw, letting the smoke heat her lungs. "Man, that is seriously good."

"I don't settle for less."

"I can tell. Mm! It's been months since I've had some. Ever since they busted Hydro Pump Johnny for selling weed to a statue he thought was a cop 'cause he'd eaten a bunch of loco weed seeds."

"I read about that. Wish I was there. Must've been a hoot and a holler, like they used to say."

The two enjoyed weed in silence, passing the joint back and forth 'til all that remained was a roach balanced in a fine pair of jeweler's tweezers Garnet procured, again, from nowhere in particular. "Say, Garnet..." Sadie said.

"Hm?"

"You think I should go to the Great Outdoor Fight, right?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If you want to."

"I... don't know if I want to. It feels like I'm being forced. But Steven's dad said something about curveballs and rolling with them. And I guess he made a point."

"Perhaps he did. Perhaps he did not. But this I can assure you, donut child." She rolled a fresh joint. "We go through life only once, and there is so much in that life that happens only once... and so much that can never happen." She brushed the end of the joint against a red gem in her other palm, lighting it. "I have always wanted to go to the Great Outdoor Fight. But it's not something I could ever do. I'm not human. I'm two magical gems in a state of fusion. I could never fight them fairly, in as honorable and pure a contest as there ever was."

She handed the joint to Sadie, who looked the smoke over, as if trying to figure out what it was.

"It's not going there and raising your fist that's the problem, is it?" Garnet said. "I can feel it."

"Garnet... I don't want to be a murderer." She took a bracing drag off of the joint. "I've killed someone... in self-defense, I mean, kinda, I guess. But if I go there, and if I fight like that, just, automatically... I don't know if I want to win like that. Or worse, fight like that and then lose."

"Donut child," Garnet said, putting a powerful hand on her shoulder, "if you are afraid of this power within you, then the Great Outdoor Fight is the first place you should be going."

"But..."

"You did not know, until this morning, that you were capable of killing a man so perfectly. There is no time and place on Earth so extreme, so all-encompassing, as the Great Outdoor Fight. If you turn away for fear that you are a killer--then you will never know when and how this power of yours will manifest. What if you get too angry at your daughter and the power emerges and you pulp them between your hands like the halves of oranges?"

"...like, pressing the halves together or something?"

"What if the stick-boy raises his voice at you for forgetting the trash? Will you throw him out of your tenth story apartment and impale him on a wrought-iron fence? If you should be angry behind the wheel of a car, will you drive that car into a school bus, board that school bus, pull out your fish-gutting knife, and--"

"Okay, I get it."

"--make yourself some kindergartener-bone wind chimes?"

"Seriously, please stop."

"Sorry. The image popped into my mind and I found it tremendously funny." Sadie found it impossible to tell if she was kidding. "But you can grasp what I'm getting at, yes? If you are a killer, if this beast of yours takes delight in death, it is only here where you may ply your trade and find out the shape of it, what satisfies it. If you are not--then you will instead find the shape of the warrior within you. If you fall, you will fall in pursuit of yourself. If you win... it is because you are too beautiful and perfect to lose."

Sadie closed her eyes and took a steady breath.

"February is two months away," she said. "I'll have to save up for a train ticket or something."

"This can be done."

"I think... I may need to train."

"I can arrange for this."

"Like, you know somebody?"

"I know myself." She moved her hand from Sadie's shoulder to her own breast. "I will teach you all you need to know. You sought Steven's father's aid, yes? We shall consult with him as well. In all of Delmarva there is no man who knows the Fight as well as he. The stick boy will be at your side, as he always is. Together we will give you the tools you need to be victorious. And when that gate closes behind you, you will use these tools to carve the name of Sadie Miller into the canon of long-time dudes."

"Richard Heaven."

"Hm?"

"If I'm gonna do this--if I'm gonna close that door he opened--it'll be in his name."

"A _soubriquet rouge_. Like a true champion."

Sadie smoked half the joint in a single breath that made her lungs feel like popping. She coughed and hacked a cloud of richly-scented fog. "If you got more weed to spare keep it coming because oh my God I can't believe I'm doing this."

Garnet rolled out a blunt. "I have all you need and more, donut child."

"My name's Sadie."

"I won't remember it."

"Just like my fifth grade teacher."

"Just like what now?" the mayor said.

"Jesus Christ, where'd you come from?!" Sadie said.

"It's a public beach and I'm not sleepy, is all!" Mayor Dewey lied. "Don't worry, voter, if you feel the need to partake, I feel the need to remind you Delmarva legalized marijuana a few months ago." Dewey was dressed the opposite of warmly, with trunks and sandals and a VOTE FOR MY DAD shirt speckled with spray. "By the way, did I hear an inspiring speech for my inspirational survivor?"

"Yes," Garnet said. "Donut child is going to compete in the Great Outdoor Fight."

"Oooh. Interesting. Tell me more."

"I'm--gonna head home. See you, Mayor." Sadie clenched the joint in her teeth and snagged her towel and Garnet's blunt. "She knows the score, she'll fill you in."

Garnet tilted her head. "I'm not doing anything else tonight. And a chair has been vacated."

"I'm always open to my city's favorite aliens and the interesting things they have to talk about."

* * *

Sadie went home, let the high overtake her, giggled her ass off at YouTube videos 'til 4 am, and fell into a calm, sweet sleep.

When she woke up, she ambled up the stairs for breakfast, pouring some milk and fetching a couple of chocolate muffins from the chocolate muffin cabinet. She paused when she saw the note her mom left there every day.

"Hi sweetie! Saw you on TV--good luck my little fighter!" It was on new boxing-themed stationary. There was a box of Wheaties, some bran muffins, a drum of protein powder, some mouth guards, hand wraps, a Fite-Tite Elastoband, and two fresh packs of chocolate muffins standing guard by the half-empty one.

She took her muffins and chewed them decisively. She crept into the living room, sat down, flipped on the TV, found a recording of the morning news on the DVR, and played it.

"--is that right?" Mr. Smiley said, holding up a microphone to Mayor Dewey, who was standing in front of a hastily-erected display prominently featuring a cardboard standee of Sadie, her head crudely photoshopped onto the body of Ronda Rousey.

"It is indeed!" Mayor Dewey said. "Our very own homegrown heroine Sadie Miller is out to conquer the Great Outdoor Fight! As we send our condolences to the family of Richard Hea--" One of his bodyguards whispered in his ear. "--ah, by request of the family of Richard Heaven, we are sending no condolences to anyone, as he has been, and I quote, 'exiled' from his family for decades. But we are nonetheless going to wish luck and give our whole support to Ms. Miller as she goes to face incredible odds in February!"

"What an event!" Mr. Smiley said, mugging for the camera. "Am I to understand the whole town is invited to some manner of adventure festival?" He was reading off of cue cards, it looked like.

"You bet your bottom dollar, friend! Tourists, if the hike to Cali is a little too much, hop on in to Delmarva's coziest seaside town and join in the fun! There'll be rides, prizes, maybe a little Valentines Day fun for the fine folks who like their fun to be a little gentler! And while our lady Sadie is down in Bakersfield taking on all comers, we'll be running our very own kids' martial arts championships and a Ms. Queen of the Beach beauty contest--by invitation only, of course. Something for everyone, guaranteed!"

"Now, for the people at home who aren't quite up to date on the whole 'Great Outdoor Fight' thing, what exactly is it?"

Mayor Dewey blinked. "An event, to be sure! And, while I have the mic, may I call attention to my Kickstarter to get the rights to Red Dwarf so I can start a Kickstarter to make a new season of Red Dwarf? I'm thinking Felicia Day in a starring role."

Sadie switched off the TV.

She finished her breakfast, that is to say the breakfast she intended to have, and prepared for what she hoped would be her morning exercises and not some exercise in ludicrous shenanigans.

The ludicrous shenanigans, it turned out, would be slightly later.


	2. The First Day (Of Training)

"Here you go, sir," Sadie said, handing over a sack of donuts to Kofi Pizza.

"And none too quickly, at that!" Kofi said. "What is with that up-and-down motion you seem so obsessed with?"

"Oh, that's, uh, this step-stool thing I'm using." She hefted the wooden stepping stool and showed it to him. "Gotta tone up those kicking legs, you know!"

"Hm. Well, I suppose fatties have to start somewhere. Good luck keeping your head on straight, an issue some people have had historically in this location! Ha-ha!" He pointed at the place where the assailant had died, the useless chalk outline still somehow there.

"Sure thing, guy," muttered Sadie.

"Stay strong, girl," Lars said, popping out from the back. "By the way, I just got those bars and the punching bag and that... tonsil-shaped smaller bag... you know... set up."

"Thanks, Lars!"

"No problem, Sadie. Totally no problem! Soooo you're really going through with it, huh."

"Yeah, Lars. Got a problem with that?"

"I'm kind of terrified that it's happening but you know, that's just me." Lars whistled. "So, that's, what, two months to get ready?"

"About." Sadie grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at her sweat. "Apparently Mayor Dewey's got a Kickstarter for train tickets from First City to Bakersfield. Or, specifically, bus tickets to get us to the ferry, then bus tickets from the ferry to get to First City, then we go from First City to Second City taking a detour through Empire City, then from Second City all the way to Bakersfield. And from there we have a courtesy car to the Acres."

"And how long is that ride?"

"About three days."

"Jesus Christ. ... What was that about 'we...?'"

"I named you as my traveling partner, because I'm not spending three days on a train with my mom and I don't trust anyone else as much as... well, in the way that I trust you."

"Uh... thanks, Sadie."

"You're welcome."

Steven came bouncing in. "Hey, Sadie! Gettin' your practice on?"

"Yeah, Steven! What'll it be?"

"Oh, the usual, but half the powdered sugar, 'cause Steven is gettin' himself in shape for Jai Alai camp!" Steven flexed and wriggled his eyebrows.

"They teach kids jai alai? Don't those balls go like a million miles an hour?" Lars said.

"Apparently they do, and apparently they do!" Steven said.

* * *

After work, Sadie hiked around the beach to the giant goddess lady statue. Garnet was waiting for her, arms crossed, expression completely unreadable.  


She doubled over and caught her breath. "Hey... Garnet... how's... go?"

"I'm going to try to kill you now," Garnet said, enormous gauntlets appearing on her hands. She charged forward, wound up for a right cross.

"Jesus fuck!" Sadie said, diving for cover as Garnet sailed over her. She scrambled back to her feet, stumbled back off, looked back, saw Garnet dragging her left gauntlet through the sand, dragging herself to a stop--spinning around--

She grabbed something handle-like sticking out of the ground, and when Garnet flung herself back at her she hefted a stone hammer from the sand and smashed it at Garnet's face. The hammer shattered and Garnet's sunglasses cracked. The gem went limp and crashed into the beach yards away, tearing a gouge into the sand.

"Yeah! You take it!" Sadie said, utterly breathless, falling right on her ass. "Oh my God I'm having a heart attack."

Garnet hopped back to her feet, no worse for the wear. "Good hit." She adjusted her glasses; they healed back up. "But we have your weakness. We know you can function moment to moment. Most fights are moment to moment. The Great outdoor Fight is moment to moment to moment to moment to moment, from 10 am on day one to 12 pm on day three. You will be going 76 hours. Sleep is not guaranteed. Nutrition is not guaranteed. This is what you must do: you must last, and make the most of what you find."

"...is it too late to change my mind?" Sadie said.

"Yes," Garnet said.

"I know," Sadie said, "that was rhetorical."

"Get back up, I'm going to try to kill you again."

* * *

"...what do we get to eat?" Sadie said. She was five Polish sausages to the wind and Mr. Universe was grilling up another batch.  


"Before the fight?" he said, shutting the lid of the little port-o-grill he'd brought out. "There's snack stands, food carts... used to be a candy truck, but the guy had a real bad stroke in the 70's. If you think you'll need sugar get some before you get to the acres."

"I mean in the fight," Sadie said. "That's three days of fighting, how do they expect us to keep going?"

"Well, there's always a good amount of bum wine and beer and all that. But solid food, you only get that if you're an army leader, and only on day 2, and only if you decide to have it yourself instead of sharing it with your army."

"Armies?" Sadie said. "Isn't it supposed to be all for one and stuff?"

"Well, yeah, technically. But think about it like this, you've lasted a few hours, half the guys in the fight are down or dead, and most of them were put down by like five or six guys. What do you wanna do more, fight those guys, or fight with those guys? Your odds go up a whole bunch! If you rep an army and you get taken out, it's probably by some minion instead of a guy who rips off entire middles, and if you really play your cards right, you can backstab the guy you're fighting and carry a victory. It's happened before!"

"How the hell is there this much detail going into a bunch of guys punching each other for three days?" Sadie said. She tried to will the next round of food into cooking faster.

"Well, it doesn't take much work to make donuts, right?"

"Not really, we just pop 'em in the heater for a few seconds."

"...Oh, I thought you were gonna go into the this and that of donut-making. It's like an object lesson or somethin'!"

"It's a long story, but we don't really do our own donuts at the Big Donut."

"Huh. Anyway, what I was gonna go for is this: if a thing's worth doing, it's worth overdoing!" Mr. Universe said. "That's why there's ten Spongebob wikis and only one Chronicles of Riddick one."

"You need to work on your analogies."

"I just found out about the Spongebob thing today, sue me," Mr. Universe said. "Seriously, like, ten! Oh, hey, sausage done." He shuffled around in the bun bag, freed his tongs from the tong slot, popped a sausage in a bun, and before he could even apply mustard Sadie had bitten it free from his hand and gnoshed it down. "...or you could do that," he said, "that's fine."

Little did they know at that very moment Steven was camped out behind a rock, taking careful notes in the margins of his concept drawing of Stevonnie's new costume.

"How's the donut child doing?" Garnet said, after hopping off one of the goddess statue's arms and landing in a small crater a short distance away from Sadie and Greg.

"Be'rr!" Sadie said while halfway through the rest of her food. She swallowed and washed it back with a can of beer from Greg's cooler. "Oh my God I needed this thank you so much."

"I did try to kill you for a few hours," Garnet said. "It seemed prudent to show no hard feelings are involved. We'll be weaning you off of solid food and onto harder liquor as the days go by."

"S...sure. Thanks, Garnet. I mean, for lots of things."

"Don't thank me yet. Save it for after day 3 of the Fight. Also, I may have just lied."

"Abou--" Sadie was interrupted by Greg smashing her with a plank of wood against her back, sending her face-faulting into the sand.

"Dodging is one thing," Garnet said, looming over her, "but you'll have to take hits too. You will not see some of them coming, and they will not be gentle."

"Sorry, kid," Greg said, also standing over her. "Believe me, I'd be wearing boxing gloves if Garnet said those weren't more responsible for concussions in the long run."

Sadie rolled onto her side, staring blearily into the darkening evening sky. Greg was taping up his knuckles.

"Do mind her head," Garnet said. "Speaking of concussions, one can only have so many to enjoy before they get to being a bother. She'll need a virgin brain for the Fight."

"Got it, boss," Greg said, hefting Sadie (with some effort) by her collar. "Gimmie a sec to get into character? This is feeling kind of weird."

"For both of us, Mr. Universe," Sadie said, but with several long pauses as she made sure her lungs hadn't popped.

"Alright, alright... let's see..." He closed his eyes, did some breathing exercises, furrowed his brow, and declared, " _Die, you asshole!_ " and whaled on her stomach and ribs.

"Not too hard, now!" Garnet said as Greg tenderized her. "If she breaks anything, she won't have time to heal it for the Fight. Just make her feel like she's broken something."

"Roger dodger!" he said.

"Oh God please kill me" Sadie said.

"Later," Garnet said, stroking her hair.

By this point Steven was not paying attention, having just had an outrageous breakthrough in the issue of Stevonnie's fighter name.

* * *

That night, while Sadie furiously Googled how much ibuprofen she could take before dying, Beach City Underground Wrestling saw the debut of a rising talent.  


In the ring, Chucklin' Chuckles the Christmas Clown was in the middle of turning on Halloween Harry after the two defeated Thomas the Thanks Engine and Kwanzaa Karlisle in the Battle of the Lower Year-Third Holiday Supremacy.

"Nice of 'em to give the crowd time to pee, get snacks, and raise a family," Amethyst said, listening to Mr. Smiley's commentary. "Did that scan? I might have'ta use it in my match."

"I think you do good quips!" Steven said.

"Hell yeah I do," Amethyst said. "So what's you guys' big thing gonna be?"

The three of them were in the Purple Puma's personal room, which was probably something like an office when the warehouse was a warehouse. There wasn't much here that was Amethyst's, other than a full-body mirror and some garbage cans she used for snacks. Some printing and DJ stuff was tucked in the corner for when the mayor or the Cool Kids used the place.

Connie was using the mirror right now, adjusting the fit of her cape. "We're gonna see if Stevonnie can keep themselves together during a fight, and I don't know anything about wrestling, so... we're all learning something tonight."

"Got it," Amethyst said. "Just follow my lead, let Steven take the wheel when it comes to pulling off moves, and remember: when somebody attacks you, you gotta sell it."

"Sell it...?" Connie said.

"You know, roll with it so it doesn't hurt, but make it look like it does! It's part of wrestling psychology, you gotta make 'em think you're gettin' hurt."

Connie could think of several reasons why that didn't sound right, but she tried her best to banish them for now.

"Yannow, one of these days I'm gonna have to ask you what it's like fusing with someone who's made of meat," Amethyst said. "That's gotta... I dunno... I try and imagine it and all I can think of are doner kebabs and then I get hungry." She swallowed a bottle of Max Muscle Body Oil whole. "Aw yeah, Maximum Sweat time, baby. That's gonna be real fun on the terlet later."

"What's this!" Mr. Smiley said, "'Big Ball' Count Downe is rushing the arena! Is he here to avenge Halloween Harry?"

"Not much longer now. You kids get all fused up, I'll get the place ready to pop." Amethyst transformed into the Purple Puma and flexed. "Pop like a muthafuckin' baseball between my thighs!" She sweated body oil, going from zero to newly-waxed floor in seconds like a Maximum Sweat(tm) action figure.

Steven donned his mask, mushing it good and tight to get the spirit gum to stick. "Ready, Connie?" The two were in matching costumes; Steven figured it was the best way to make sure Stevonnie's clothes were exactly right.

"As I'll ever be!" she said.

"No, no, you gotta be super hyper for wrestling!" Steven said. "Like, think about how cool we're gonna be, and how everybody's gonna think we're awesome, and how you're gonna be Irish Whipping people so hard they're gonna be dizzy, and we'll be on wrestling websites and people will buy t-shirts of us! They sell t-shirts of Tiger Millionare, Connie! I've printed 'em myself and they look awesome!"

"Hey, hey, now you're speaking my language!" Connie said. Suddenly her head was filled with visions of her fantasy pentology she was working on flying off the shelves because people wanted to read what the mysterious new wrestler whose skillful moves and amazing hair dazzled the nation had to write. "Come on, Steven! We're gonna show everyone the what-for!"

"Yes!" He took Connie's hand and the two took to dancing.

"Oh, goodness gracious!" Mr. Smiley said, "An upset victory by Saturn Alia! The holiday world may never be the same again! As our noble competitors carry themselves off the field of battle, who else should arrive but--the Purple Puma!"

The crowd in its dozens cheered and booed as the mighty wrestler hopped over the ropes and rolled to the center of the ring. "Attention, Beach City!" Amethyst growled into a descending microphone Mr. Smiley had shelled out for after a windfall of reporter money, "Tonight, here and now, shall see the premiere of my newest tag-team partner! Tiger Millionaire's settling a labor dispute at the coconut mines right now--but don't you even think my back's not covered! For while the cat's away... the birds will play! Put your hands in the air and then bring them together, because Robyn Redbreast is in the house!"

Stevonnie's entrance theme ("Thorns of a Black Rose" by Kiuas, chosen by Connie) blared as they marched out from the green room, dressed in a bronze-colored Mardi Gras mask, a bright red belly shirt over a darker red compression shirt, a midback-length cape, bike shorts, striped stockings and lightweight wrasslin' boots, plus knee and elbow pads because that was good sense. It was definitely a look that they were wearing.

The crowd clapped well enough, but nobody was quite sure how to react.

"Astonishing!" Mr. Smiley said, "In one way or another this is a first for Beach City Underground Wrestling! Robin Redbreast, welcome to the stable!" He saluted them as they climbed into the arena, kicking their way in after getting tangled up in the ropes.

"Easy now," Stevonnie said to themselves. "It's my first time coming in here when I'm this long! Can you tell? No, it's cute, they're loving it." They hiked up to the mic and waved to the crowd. "Hello, Beach City!" they said. "I'm here to bust some powerbombs and steal my way to victory! That's my backstory, I mean!"

Amethyst hefted Stevonnie over her head. "And if anyone thinks they can stop us, they got another thing coming, and that's their head on this canvas!" She stomped on the ring for emphasis. "What unlucky son of a bitch is seeing us down today?"

From their vantage point of being several feet taller, Stevonnie scanned the crowd. Huh, Lars and Sadie weren't here. It sort of negated the need for the mask... but who knows who else might be watching? They struck a pose and waved to the crowd. The first few minutes were turning out alright!

* * *

Sadie's phone played Meredith Brook's "Bitch," but only three words, over and over.  


"Goddammit Lars," Sadie said, groping for her phone's charging cable, pulling the device into her hand. After a few torturous seconds of swiping, the beast fell silent. "Hello?" she said.

"Hey, Sadie," Lars said. "Is it alright if I come in?"

"...To my house?"

"To your room. I'm kinda waiting upstairs, your mom asked if it was boyfriend stuff..."

"Come on in, Lars. Quietly. Bring a flashlight."

Lars peered into Sadie's room, seeing it pitch black but for the glow of her phone against her head and the steady green light of her alarm clock. The only sounds were the hum of a fan and Mr. Smiley's voice on the radio. He activated his flashlight app and crept down the stairs, pointing the light well away from Sadie's face.

"Hey, Sadie," he said. "I hear it got pretty rough today."

"I burned ten thousand calories dodging rocket fists," Sadie said, "and I ate ten thousand calories in tube meat, and then I vomited up those ten thousand calories after Steven Universe's dad beat the shit out of me scientifically."

"...Like with a robot?"

"No, with Garnet telling him where to punch and how."

"So, not in the mood for cookies... right." He set a cardboard tote of Otis Spunkmeyer (he'd have made his own recipe, only to realize the family kitchen lacked chocolate chips, shortening, flour, eggs, and, after the kid nephew visited last week, no working oven) on her nightstand. "But I got some ginger ale."

"Thanks, Lars."

He balanced his phone on her drawer and set about the task of pouring ginger ale in the dark, getting most of it in a World's Best Mailmom mug with a novelty brass knuckle grip. He inched over to her bed, mug held at waist height, and she snatched and downed it all in one go. "Oh thank God," she said. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, flopping into the beanbag chair next to her bed. Mr. Smiley was making an "oooh!" sound. So either something extremely good was happening, or something extremely bad, or literally anything at all that he felt compelled to comment about, given it was wrestling night. "So, uh... guess this means we're at the show together. Kinda."

"Wouldn't miss it," Sadie said, stifling a yawn. He couldn't see her (and when he saw her the next day he'd say something to the effect of "did he smack you around with paint rollers they used on a pimp car?"), but he could almost feel how badly she had been thrown around. He couldn't imagine Steven's dad really going to town on her, but he wouldn't doubt the cube-hair chick could do some damage.

"Ha, too bad Tiger Millionaire's out for a while, huh?"

"Yeah, I love that little guy. New girl... or maybe guy, I don't think anyone's been able to tell yet, he, she, they're doin' pretty good. I think. I'm kind of zoning in an' out."

"You just go ahead and nap and stuff and I'll be here a while. Just speak up if you feel the need, a'ight?" Lars said.

"Sure," Sadie said.

In a few minutes, she was snoozing soundly, and Lars was listening to Smiley describe the new whatever-they-were getting thrown out of the ring.

* * *

Stevonnie bounced off the padding around the ring and landed across four laps in the front row, soda and popcorn flying everywhere. "Sorry!" they said, rolling off the audience and accidentally elbowing a guy in the nads in the doing.  


In the ring, "Devil's Dream" "Darksided" Dudley Devilsdream guffawed, clutching his enormous belly for emphasis. From her position hanging off the ropes, Amethyst shouted, "Get your head out of your ass and in the game, Rob!"

"By the gods! How can Robyn regain their momentum?" Mr. Smiley said, unnecessarily, as Stevonnie vaulted back in the ring.

"I've got this," Stevonnie said. "Are you sure? Shouldn't we be punching harder? No, it's wrestling, we're doing this for sports and stuff!"

Dudley Devilsdream launched at Stevonnie, arms wide, going in for a grapple. Steven took control and barrel-rolled out of the way, Dudley jogging straight ahead until he tangled himself up in the ropes, slowly turning around and resting against them.

"Now's our chance!" Stevonnie said, louder this time. They ran to the other end of the arena, bounded off the ropes, and leaped at Dudley, spinning around mid-air to smack him with their butt right in the chest. "Whee!" they said, landing on their feet. The crowd popped. "What the hell was that about? Why didn't you just kick them? 'Cause it's cooler!" Stevonnie said. They put a hand to their ear and listened to the crowd and Mr. Smiley.

"A classic hip check executed with panache!" Mr. Smiley said. "Robyn Redbreast is getting the hang of it!"

"Really?" Stevonnie said. "Yeah, really! This doesn't feel like a fight. It's not fencing, it's wrasslin'!" Dudley finished gasping for breath and lumbered off the ropes. "Now keep on your toes," Stevonnie said, "'cause he's not gonna back down now!"

"If Devilsdream gets his hands on the new challenger," Mr. Smiley said, "well, let's just hope they paid for another round-trip ticket! Back home, I mean, from Beach City!"

"Hang on, I've always wanted to try this!" Stevonnie said, waiting 'til Devilsdream was in range. With a soft "hup" they pulled a backflip, catching Devilsdream on the chin with their toes, landing a few feet away on their hands, before pushing off their hands and kicking his stomach, sending him to the mat. Stevonnie pondered the best quip for the situation and settled on a raspberry.

Devilsdream crawled across the mat and tagged out with his partner. "The Darksided One is tapping out!" Mr. Smiley said. "Looks like he's gonna send his protege in to test the waters against Robyn! But can Lil' Diesel's high-flying--"

Stevonnie took one look at Lil' Diesel--five foot four, probably nowhere near the one hundred fifty pounds Mr. Smiley said she was--and realized, no, it was gonna be too easy to break something of hers. They tapped in the Purple Puma. "Let 'em down gently!" they said.

"Sure, sure," Amethyst said, stomping into the ring. "Once I finish crushing 'em like an aluminum can. And there I go... making myself hungry!" She was on Lil' Diesel like a tipped brick wall.

* * *

"Robyn Redbreast has no time for small fry!" Mr. Smiley said. "But it looks like the Purple Puma's content with keeping his claws sharp on this little scratching post! Ooh, I hope her insurance is paid up!"  


Lars nodded along, and tried not to imagine the many, many ways Sadie could die or be permanently crippled or horrifically disfigured two months from now. Trying not to, of course, meant he couldn't stop imagining the many, many ways she could die or be permanently crippled or horrifically disfigured.

... _A gray sky over a gray field dusted with snow._ The deafening rumble of cranes trundling outside the two-story chain link fence. A crane-claw dives into the acres, picks up a still body deep inside, and rises, ponderously turning 'til the claw swings still on the other side of the fence. Without dropping lower it opens, and a small, round body tumbles out, landing in a heap on the ground. He runs over. She's landed on her head. It takes a few moments for gravity to tug her lower half onto the ground. Her legs and arms are splayed, limp, motionless. Her body faces upward; her head doesn't. She's already lukewarm; by the time that knot of brawlers had untangled itself, she had been gone a long time. Her skin is cold and blistered under his hand. She's so heavy, so much more than when she was alive. And when he turns her over, he sees her, missing an eye, tongue purple and jutting between her lips, her neck black. Dirt and snow cling to the dried blood on her face. She died half-blind and with a broken nose. The medical tents, he remembers, are on the other side of the Acres. _She was never going to make it. And he is going home alone_....

"And that's three!" Mr. Smiley said. "The Redbreast-Puma Team has claimed their first victims in Beach City Underground Wrestling! Here's to some more fantastic matches from them in the future!"

Lars wiped sweat from his brow. In her chilly room it felt like he'd stuck his head in a bathtub full of ice water.

"Sadie, if you die on me, you are just gonna kill me," he said to the darkness.

He reached over Sadie, rolled the radio over to her favorite frequency, and crept back up the stairs.


	3. The Storm Before the Calm

In her dreams, Sadie's knuckles were split and bloody, and the air was filled with the stink of destroyed bodies, and she was victorious.

In the morning, she substituted, with some hesitation, a bran muffin for one of the chocolate, took a long hot shower, and went to work.

"Morn', Sad-- _eeeeeee_!" Lars squealed. "Oh my God! Did he smack you around with paint rollers they used on a pimp car?"

She pulled off her sunglasses. "Eh, basically. Good thing is he got that tooth out that I've been meaning to get pulled. Saved me a trip to the dentist. But hey, no concussions!" She flashed a mostly-complete smile at him. "So... you know... that's nice." She headed to the sink to wash her hands for work.

Steven and Connie headed in. "I'm just saying, Steven," Connie said, "I don't think your dad mentioned ropes or turnbuckles, and I doubt there's gonna be padding anywhere. I think we need to approach this more like a duel, but, you know, with punching."

"You make a good point," Steven said, realizing they were now in a public place, "but that doesn't mean we should be bringing sabers to jai alai."

Connie got the gist. "Yeah, maybe I'm just being paranoid. Hey Lars, hey Sad--oh my God what happened to your face?'

"Practice happened," Sadie said. "I'm alright." She found her stepping stool and got to stepping on and off it. "What'll you be having, kids?"

"Double my usual, guys!" Steven said. "We gotta build mass and power for the jai alai camp."

"Heck yeah, Steven. We're gonna be powerhouses!" Sadie said, flexing in solidarity. Steven returned the flex. Connie, giggling, joined in.

Lars had already bagged Steven's order by now. He waited 'til the moment passed before he hopped on the conversation train. "Heck yeah, everybody! Let's all work out and get super tough!" Lars said. "'Cause if there's one thing everybody in this room is, it's a winner." Sadie smirked at him. Connie's giggles escalated into an all-destroying guffaw. Steven tried to remember why Lars and Sadie weren't married, and concluded that it was probably Lars's dad needing a musical number to change his mind about Sadie. He made a note to start writing one.

* * *

Perhaps through the donut shop, perhaps through Steven and Connie going any- and everywhere, perhaps through Mayor Dewey's regular updates about the upcoming Great Outdoor Extravaganza, perhaps through Ronaldo Fryman's occasional conspiratorial Tumblr posts on the subject, Beach City began, man by man, to board the Sadie Miller hype train.

This was some consolation to Sadie throughout the savage beatings.

By the end of the first week Garnet and Amethyst began trading off attempts at murder, never in any obvious pattern, even randomness. Garnet escalated her training regimen at a slowly-accelerating pace; Amethyst was utterly unpredictable, other than the whipping.

"Recall that you will be facing three thousand men, donut child," Garnet said one bleak, hazy afternoon, watching Sadie climb out of a bathtub-sized crater blown in the sand. "The most common fighting style is 'unstructured flailing,' exhibited by one third of the fight population. The next most-common style is shared by one in ten men. You will encounter them singly and in groups from two to two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. There is no prediction or study possible. You must glimpse patterns in an instant and react accordingly."

"Two... two... what was that?" Sadie said, trying to determine if her left leg was still connected to her hip.

"I'll tell you later. Amethyst, take a breather."

"Got it, boss," Amethyst said, popping her detonation remote back in her gem. "And by the way, try not to put all your weight on one foot, I've got like thirty more flash pots around here."

"That's our Amethyst," Garnet said, "casually unconcerned with human life. Are you able to walk, donut child?"

"Y-yeah!" Sadie said, smiling at her leg in fact still functioning.

"Excellent. I'll take over from here." Garnet hopped from her perch atop the cliff overlooking the beach and landed fist-first such that a half-dozen or so flash pots went off in the sand behind her.

"Goddammit," Sadie said, and steeled herself. She scanned the cliff to see if there were any more crossbows set up like yesterday and saw instead a line of about ten people. "Huh...?" Someone up there waved.

"We have an audience, donut child," Garnet said. "Isn't that interesting?"

"It... kind of is!" She waved back, and leaned her head out of the way as Garnet threw a pole chainsaw at her like a javelin, losing an inch of her hair in the process. "Sorry, people, gotta pay--shit!" Garnet spun at her like a Beyblade with chainsaws instead of little plastic spurs; if it had been another year in the future, Sadie would have thought of a Canadian fidget spinner. She didn't hear the cheering over the chainsaws and her heart in her ears, but cheered those onlookers did. Especially when she bashed Garnet in the elbow, caught a falling chainsaw, and turned it on her.

* * *

Last week, Bill Dewey had searched #goxBC tag on Twitter and found a whole two mentions of Great Outdoor Extravaganza, now over 2% representative of the tag and not the combination Bitcoin exchange and Biblical creationism research hub. Both of the mentions were by that nice young man Ronaldo Fryman as he was trying to claim the event was being subverted by the Elves of Zimbabwe. This week, there were almost five tweets, and one of them was a photo of Sadie Miller almost being killed by a flaming motorcycle being driven at her by the purple one along with the text "heck of hype!"

"Thank you, PizzaFather1971!" Mayor Dewey said. "You've started a trend!" He opened the back door of the Dewey Van and waved at Universe Sr., who was across from him in the Stop 'n Save parking lot. "Hey there, Mr. Universe! How's the training been?"

"It's, uh, it's been a thing!" Mr. Universe said. "Is this gonna take a while, I've got some Tastee Fudge in here and... not that it isn't below freezing out..."

"Have you considered livestreaming your part of the training? I bet it'd help get people excited!"

"The kind of training me and Sadie do, it's not the kind you wanna livestream..."

"...When you say that..." Dewey said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh dear God no! It's just that she needs to train to take a hit and the Gems hit super hard, so it's up to me to beat the hell out of her."

"Still sounding kind of inappropriate."

"Cuz it's kind of inappropriate. Just a different kind of kind-of-inappropriate."

"Alright, I trust you, good sir. So, uh, what would be a good thing to livestream? You know, get everybody excited?"

"I've got some old Fight commentary and interview tapes, those make for some good listening," Greg said.

"Hm, a little too audio, not enough visual..."

"Oh, I just found Movie Maker on my computer the other day! I could scan some Fight books, come up with a little thing to go with it, maybe compose a kickass soundtrack for it!"

"Maybe... but I have a better idea. Can you give this to Pearl?" Dewey fetched a small, gilded envelope lightly scented of roses. "Let's just say it has some very important information that she'll need very soon!" He laboriously winked at Mr. Universe. "And I'll get back to you on the thing!" He hopped back in his Deweymobile and drove off in a cloud of exhaust and the trailing sound of the "MAY-OR DEW-EY" klaxxon.

Greg sighed. "Maybe it's for the best. Gotta wonder what people would think if they knew how bad the fight gets..."

"I know how gruesome the Great Outdoor Fight can be, Mr. Universe," someone said off to the side, scaring the hell outta Greg. "Apologies, but I felt the need for a dramatic entrance," Buck Dewey said, slinking out from hiding around the side of Mr. Universe's van. "As an underground Califearnian fighting tournament, it is utterly permissible for a man of particular intellectual fascination with the strange for me to be knowledgable in affairs of the Fight. May I propose something?"

"Sure, kid, just hurry up on accoun'ta the..." He pointed at the Tastee Fudge, which was as frosty now as it was four minutes ago in the supermarket.

"My father has already been negotiating with the ruling body. For a modest fee, we are allowed to stream live footage of the Fight as it transpires. In light of this, myself, yourself, and all those who are knowledgeable of affairs of the Fight, should play our cards of wisdom as close to our chest as possible, ere no man may know until that beautiful day just what the town shall see. On the day of the Glorious Appearing, we shall shepherd this town and keep it on the Sadie Miller Hype Train until the deed is done."

"You know what, kid?" Mr. Universe said. "I like the way you think." He offered a handshake and got a fistbump. "Oh, right, that's what kids are doing now."

"It is indeed."

* * *

"Thrown to the beasts, ladies and gentlemen!" Mr. Smiley said. "Robyn's had a strong showing so far, but if they're really going to prove themselves, then perhaps a four-on-one with the Crip-Tidz is just the ticket, or so we may presume the Purple Puma is thinking!"

"Yeah, thas' about right," Amethyst said, seated in a folding chair balanced on the ring apron.

"Thanks for that," Stevonnie said, just loud enough for the mic they wore to pick it up.

The Crip-Tidz piled into the ring, Ronaldo leading the charge in his new heel mode, Loch Ness Mobster. The mic descended, and he caught it in his off hand. "Good _evening_ , Redbreast," he said, pulling it to his face like a goblet. "In many ways I cannot help but believe I've met the person under that mask. But really, is not our mask really the face we want to show the world? The summary of all who we are inside?" He glanced at the crowd. "Perhaps if I defeat and unmask you, I shall claim your seemingly arcane power for myself... and my allies, of course.

"Behold: Narcocabra!" He gestured to a cruiserweight Latino lad with a green, spiked lucha mask and green, spiked unbuttoned dinner jacket. "Sam 'The Yowie' Squanch!" An enormous, buff, hirsute ostensible Italian in a white suit gnawed on a cigar. "And my total and actual girlfriend, MothMoll." That was definitely Kiki Pizza in a moth-themed mask and pink leotard and giant pink waist-ribbon implied-wings kinda thing. She winked and leaned slightly towards Ronaldo, almost implying that they might have held hands at one point.

"Hi, everyone," Stevonnie said. "Are you ready to get your butts kicked?"

"Oh, we're ready to be in the presence of at least one butt getting kicked," Ronaldo said. "Minions, attack!"

Narcocabra and the Yowie led the attack, Narcocabra cartwheeling in one direction, Yowie strafing the other, flanking Stevonnie. "Alright," Stevonnie said, "let's try yours first." Stevonnie smirked.

Squanch moved first, moving to snatch Stevonnie in a bear hug. They let Squanch snag them and heft them off the mat. Narcocabra charged ahead and leaped into a flying kick, Stevonnie countering by kneeing Yowie in the gut, forcing Yowie to double over and put his face into the path of Narcocabra's boot. There was a soft crack and a spurt of blood onto Stevonnie's shoulder, and Stevonnie ducked free of the grapple as Yowie and Narco landed in a heap on the canvas.

"Eee!" Stevonnie said, dabbing at the blood on their shoulder and only managing to spread it around on their cape. "Eww!" They stumbled away and into Loch Ness Blogster whacking them with two folding chairs taped together. They flinched, Connie took over, and they spun on their heel and kicked Blogster, sending him flying back into the ropes and bouncing back with enough force to tumble ass over teakettle into a recovering Narcocabra.

"Classic martial arts skill from Robyn Redbreast here!" Mr. Smiley said, the crowd popping at Blogster's incredible stunt.

Ronaldo coughed and hacked for breath. "Are... my legs... still on?" he said, Narcocabra rolling the guy off himself.

"Probably," Narcocabra said, hopping back onto his feet in one mighty leap. Yowie recovered as well, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve and leaving a bright stain. "Round 2, baby!"

"Maybe a little less strong next time?" Stevonnie said. "I got this. 25% strength. I promise." They shifted to a defensive stance. MothMoll, who had been standing in the corner doing nothing, inched further away from them.

Yowie grabbed Narco's arm and spun, swinging the cruiserweight around and flinging him at Stevonnie. Connie, still in charge, ducked and uppercut him right in the hip, sending him spinning into the air and crashing down on the still-fallen Loch Ness Blogster. "That's a 3600 degree ollie, people!" Mr. Smiley said. "Mr. Squanch has no idea what in the dickens he should be doing!"

"Yeah, tell everybody, why don'tchaz!" Yowie said, looking around the ring, looking for a weapon. "Frickin' crazy broad, doin' a thing..."

"I'm doin' what he said to!" Kiki said from adjacent-to-her-corner.

"No, no, that broad!" Squanch said, pointing at Stevonnie.

"Actually, it's kind of a complicated--"

Yowie charged them, winding up for a punch. Stev met him with a rabbit punch to the throat, a palm strike to the solar plexus, a knee to the liver, and a Kirk hammer-punch to the midsection. Yowie stumbled back, shuddering and twitching. He turned to his fallen allies, hurled up his last two meals on them, and landed on top of them.

"Heaven's gate! A brutal display from Robyn Redbreast!" Mr. Smiley said. "Is Purple Puma their only moral anchor in the world of man? Can nothing stop them?" Amethyst chuckled. Not at the commentary, at the New Yorker cartoon she was reading.

"I think you did that a little too hard," Stevonnie said. "But that was quarter strength! Lowering your strength is a thing! Well... we didn't say it out loud, so maybe it didn't count 'cuz the audience didn't hear us--hey, what's MothMoll doing?"

MothMoll was yanking a bronze horn from her big pink waist ribbon. "Is that what I think it is?" Mr. Smiley said.

"What is it exactly?" Stevonnie said. "No, seriously, I haven't seen these guys in the ring before! Me neither!"

"It's cool, it's their thing," Purple Puma said. "Just watch."

Kiki blew into the horn, sounding a low, ominous note.

"Ohhh, my!" Mr. Smiley said. "It's the Carnyx of Carnage! That can mean only one thing!"

"Actually, that looks more like a dord," Stevonnie said, before a spike ripped through the canvas and tore open the mat. "Oh!"

A music theme Stevonnie couldn't place blared over the speakers as Nanefua clawed her way onto the mat, dressed as a leprechaun from tilted hat and red wig to knee-spikes and imitation baby-skin boots. The black-and-white striped shirt under the green vest was a twist on the look. She cackled in an ominously good impression of a deathless spirit of evil.

"Oh yes, it's the Bridge City Battlebeast, the Leprechaunvict!" Mr. Smiley said.

"Yee-heeheeheehee!" said Nanefua. "Try as you will, and try as you might, who fights them the Crip-Tidz won't live through the night!"

"I... I bet you think that!" Stevonnie said. Oh, no, Connie thought within them, I can't just wail on her! She's tiny, I could hurt her! I mean you kind of hurt those guys pretty bad too, Steven said. Connie would've responded if Nanefua hadn't hurtled herself at the ropes, rebounded like a pinball, and spiked Stevonnie in the neck. Within the minute they were being pinned by MothMoll.

"Betrayed by their own sense of mercy!" Mr. Smiley declared, "Just as they were learning the value of human life, a leprechaun reminded them that the concept of 'humanity' is a meaningless platitude used to distract humankind from its full potential freed from the chains of morality!"

"Yeah, tell everyone, why don't you..." Stevonnie said.

"That's my line, you weird-lookin'--" Squanch said, before turning his head and hurling into a bucket the paramedics escorting him from the ring prepared for him.

Ronaldo Fryman, propped up by Kiki, took the mic again. "I may have not... oh my God I don't know what's hurting but it's hurting bad... I may not have gotten around to getting your mask today--but next time, mark my words, Robyn Redbreast, I shall unmask you and... stuff... I'll see you next time and junk." Kiki helped him out of the ring. Stevonnie lay where they fell, trying to keep together.

"Man, you totally got whupped by Leprechaunvict," Amethyst said.

"Yeah, kinda did," Stevonnie said.

"Teach you not to underestimate the little guy, right?"

"I can't breathe," Stevonnie said.

"Ha, yeah, people made of meat have to breathe."

* * *

By the time the New Year passed, Sadie's new life had become routine. Wake up--probably in the tub, massage aching joints, eat, workercize, hike to Steven's, get ass kicked, go home, soak in hot water 'til the pain stops being such a big bitch about itself, fall asleep--usually in the tub, wake up. Repeat, maybe with a shower to rinse off a night's worth of soap scum and scented bath foam. She'd say it was thankless work, but in all honesty, it seemed like she couldn't go anywhere without someone cheering her on.

It came to a head at her mom's New Year's party, where she invited all her co-workers and whoever else was interested to come to a big shindig at the Miller estate. She'd spent half the night sipping punch and telling everyone present stories about all the stuff she'd been nearly killed by. She was seated right next to the punch bowl in the dining room, pausing only to refill her cup. "Swear to god: they got a laser cannon, and they shot a fat lady at me. Here I am thinking, 'hey, is this a sign I should be giving up?' Eh? Eh?" The fake laughs were enthusiastic, at least. "Anyway, it doesn't hit me, but it does turn a lotta sand to glass--"

"This I could have told you if I were there!" Nanefua Pizza said. "Those Martians and their lasers. Very useful!"

"Silence, mother!" Kofi said. "The woman is speaking!"

"Says the man who I pushed at great expense out of my lady parts, and who has referred to Sadie as 'the probably dead one' every single time someone posts on Facebook about her!"

"--Really?" Sadie said.

"On my mother's grave, this is true," Nanefua said. Kofi sputtered and angrily swigged back on a mug of Irish coffee. "I can tell you this, Sadie, I believe that this town puts out some mighty warriors! And some mighty wannabes, let me tell you~"

"Hey, is Sadie tellin' that story 'bout how she rolled around in broken glass like ten yards?" Amethyst said, suddenly no longer disguised as a tacky Tiffany lamp Sadie could've sworn was supposed to be there.

"Well... I was..." Sadie said.

"Tell 'em about the time I handed out sacks of frozen oranges at your mom's New Years party and said 'surprise, we're training!'"

Sadie hadn't asked about why, but yes, everybody present was holding on to a sack of frozen oranges. Onion had his and the bag of his mother (who was in the restroom, asleep on the toilet, coming down from a bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans she'd eaten earlier), only he'd emptied out both bags and filled them with cans of orange juice concentrate.

"Shit," Sadie said, pouncing onto the table and through the window and into the darkness, gunning it for the woods. Of course, there was a chase. Of course, she wound up having to dodge oranges and concentrate cans 'til dawn broke. Of course, she had work the next day. But at least everyone had a hell of a time, and Amethyst ate the mess (and one of her mom's house plants, but not an expensive one at least). That day at work she found out the stale donut pile made a fantastic makeshift cot. Other than the frosting and glazing getting everywhere, of course.

Some nights she woke up just long enough to scream "oh my God why am I doing this?" before falling back into a trauma coma.

One day, she walked into work, turned on the lights, heated up a batch of donuts, and tore a page off her inspirational-quote-a-day calendar next to her speed bag. The date read February 1st. The inspirational quote was "You will die alone, with shit in your pants. That is a prophecy." (It was a cheap calendar.)

She blinked, uncomprehending, as if the page was a Gutenberg bible or a cat-sized scorpion. She rushed to the normal calendar. It was January, every day crossed out. She flipped it. The next month was pristine. February 1st. The last day of her getting-beaten-up training. She laughed until she couldn't breathe. This was substantially longer than she anticipated.

Lars noticed the change immediately. "So, did 2,999 guys call in sick to the Fight or something?" he said.

"No, no, no," Sadie said, stepping up and stepping down at a blistering pace. "Today's my last session with Garnet and Amethyst. I'm in the clear. I'm so close I can almost taste it."

"That's... yeah, that's pretty great. Man, this has all been pretty fucking weird, hasn't it?"

"You're telling me. But it's almost done! Then it's just head to the fight, give it my best, and go home."

"Yeah... yeah," Lars said.

"Why've you been shuffling that?" Sadie said.

"Just, I dunno. Thought it'd calm me down. Been kinda stressing out lately."

"Well, you have been working next to a battered woman for like two and a half months," Sadie said. "Was that in bad taste? I'm like way super too far gone to give a shit, mind you, but hey!"

He shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. What's annoying me is how I keep getting the same damn card. Either I suck at shuffling or it's tryin' to tell me something."

"What is that, anyway?"

"It's my Binding of Isaac tarot thingey. It's pretty cool. I mean, other than keeping giving me this." He leered at The Tower. "You know what this means?"

"Nope."

"Me neither. I should look it up." He tucked the card well into the middle of the deck and tried to remember his dad's tips on how to shuffle cards. "So why are you so happy?"

"Today's the last day I'm getting beat up on. Then I work out 'til Saturday, then Sunday 'til the fight I gotta quote unquote 'conserve my energy.' It's all downhill."

"The Fight. The Fight against three thousand dudes is the downhill part of this."

"Yeah!" Sadie said. "Worrying about it and building up to it is the worst part. When you just knuckle under and do it, everything else falls away and you're in the clear. You know?"

"I... guess."

"Frankly, I'm pretty eager to see what those crazy alien chicks have lined up for me today."

Outside, it began to snow.

* * *

By the time they got off work, the beach wore an inch or so of snow, the fresh powder crunching under Sadie's shoes. Lars followed a few yards behind her, losing ground when he paused to shiver. "Jeez, it's cold," he said.

"Yeah, it's winter, man. You need to buy thicker jackets," Sadie said. "Hello? Anyone here? This is where we usually do the thing..." She scanned the cliff. There were people watching, more than ever before. They should be in for a show. "Careful, Lars, there's usually some--"

A very pale and semi-translucent Pearl popped out of the snow, pointing a rapier at her. "DO YOU WISH TO ENGAGE IN A DUEEEEELL?"

Sadie shrugged and popped her in the nose. She disappeared with a loud poof.

Three more Pearls burst out of the snow around her. "DO YOU WISH TO ENGAGE IN A DUEEEEELL?" they all said.

Sadie flying-kicked the nearest, rolled into an uppercut on the second, and as she spun through the air she transitioned into a grapple to snag the last, sending her to the ground and snapping her holographic neck.

"Jesus!" Lars said.

"Yeah, that was kind of easy," Sadie said, hopping back to her feet. "So that means there's--"

Something massive burst from the ocean in a plume of foam and salt water, a misshapen, bruise-colored horror with distorted, massive limbs. Sugilite tromped onto the beach, cackling, wrecking ball in hand, throwing the business end into the air and swinging the chain in a shrieking arc over her head. "HEY THERE, LITTLE GIRL," she said, "READY TO FUCKIN' DIE?"

"Mother," Sadie said, and ran out of the way of the wrecking ball before it smashed into the beach behind her. The impact knocked her off her feet. She scrambled away, trying to rise to her feet, slipping in the snow, Sugilite yanked her weapon free of the ground, wound up for another swing--she was on her feet again--she ran straight at the ogre, waiting for her to attack. Sugilite swung her weapon straight down at Sadie, who leaped to the side as the meteor hammer mashed into the sand. She rebounded, clamoring up the sculpted clasped fists, to the chain--

Sugilite snagged her between two fingers and pulled her away. Sadie scrambled for a hold on the chain, but it was no use. No use. Sugilite held her at eye level and raised her sunglasses, revealing a spiderlike array of eyes, each bigger than her head, all filled with a manic glee.

"SO YOU'RE THE TINY PIECE'A SHIT I'M S'PPOSED TO BE TRAININ', HUH?" Sugilite said.

Sadie squirmed between Sugilite's thumb and forefinger, trying to punch under her fingernails, to kick at the palm gem so terribly far away.

"YER SOME KINNA BIG-SHOT MOTHERFUCKER, AIN'TCHA? GONNA GO OUT AN' KILL A THOUSAND MEN?" She squeezed, forcing most of Sadie's lunch out of her. My, she hadn't puked since the third day of her training. The taste of bile was almost nostalgic. "YOU DON'T LOOK SO TOUGH TO ME. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, YOU LITTLE BITCH?"

Sadie tried to think of something to say--anything--and all she could do was heave and hack and pound away. The skin of her knuckles split against Sugilite's hide and gemstone nails. Sugilite held her up to the cliff, to the people watching.

"I LOOK AT YOU AND SEE WHAT I SEE UP THERE... NOTHIN' BUT A BUNCH OF TINY... LITTLE... BLOOD CLOTS. JUST WAITIN' TO GET POPPED 'FORE YOU FUCK THINGS UP ANY WORSE."

There was no breathing. There was no fighting. There was just her between the ogre's fingers, pushing hard as she could to push them apart. Nothing.

She closed her eyes, breathed best as she could.

"READY TO DIE, BITCH?" Sugilite said.

Sadie met Sugilite's gaze.

"I'll see you in hell."

"ONLY BITCH DYIN' HERE IS YOU." Sugilite cackled, right until a column of laser light blitzed straight through her head.

Sadie fell, flailing for footholds, and settled for making a three-point landing on the snow-covered sand, sinking a few inches into the morass. The snow was cold fire against her wounded hands, and it felt so, so good. She stayed there, breathing, alive, free again. Up on the ridge her audience gave some noncommital cheering, not entirely sure what to think of all that. Steven (or some other small round child) waved happily from atop a smoking laser cannon she hadn't seen earlier in her quick scan of the cliff.

She didn't notice Garnet until she heard clapping. "Good job, donut child."

"Hwhuh?" Sadie said. She looked up, seeing the enormous gem standing over her, smoldering but intact. She heard Lars screaming like a scared goat somewhere not far away, and Amethyst telling him to calm the hell down, this is a moment here.

She offered a hand to Sadie. She took Garnet's hand, and the gem lifted her to her feet. She planted her hands on Sadie's arms.

"Child," Garnet said. "Death is inevitable. It will happen around you. It will happen because of you. And it will happen to you--if not today, if not in Bakersfield, then in time, inevitably. You must face this death with dignity. When you leave this world, leave with neither pointless struggle nor hopeless surrender, unbowed and unashamed."

"...And that's what... that was about?"

"It's what we've been training you for all this time. You have performed admirably, child. I have faith in you."

"...So, all that... was just so when I die I won't be pissing myself?"

"Well, I'm sure the cardio will help, and the endurance training, but really, nobody's going to sneak a chainsaw or a flamethrower or a few tanks or all those poisonous spiders into the Fight."

"But all that stuff is gonna be relevant, right?"

"Eh, probably. Come on, let's get you a drink."

"Thanks. ... I mean, for everything. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me 'til you're back home from the Grounds. You can let the skinny one go, Amethyst!"

Amethyst let go of Lars's jacket. "Off you go," she said, Lars high-tailing it to Sadie.

"Oh my God oh my God ohmigodohmigodohmigod!" Lars said, latching on to Sadie. "Are you alright did you get killed am I dreaming this?!"

"I'm fine, Lars," Sadie said from within Lars's nonexistent man-cleavage. "I just need to brush my teeth. Like real bad." Lars didn't let go, so after a few seconds she walked backwards, steering him at the temple. "Here we go, just... we'll get there, eventually."

"Show's over, everyone!" Amethyst said to the audience, pulling an M2 from her gem and emptying it into the air. "Get out 'fore the bullets fall and probably kill you! G'wan, there'll be a big thing in town when it's Fight time."

"Bye everybody!" Steven said, waving off the gaggle of townsfolk who even by the standards of Sadie's insane training had no idea what was going on. "See you all later!"

"I _certainly shall_ ," Ronaldo said, a falling .50-cal bullet pinging off an army surplus helmet he thought to bring.

"Man," Steven said, "Sadie's sure been going the extra distance when she practices, isn't she?"

"...was that aimed at me?" Ronaldo said.

"Oh, uh, no! I'm not trying to think out loud or anything. It's just, boy oh boy, I could sure use some protips on how to practice for jai alai camp on the double! Don't suppose you could..."

Steven was alone.

"Oh. Darn." He took out a small notepad. "Note to self: maybe be more direct next time. Also, see if we have ingredients for apple pie, I bet Ronaldo would like that, just in case. Signed, Steven Universe, Esq."


	4. A Sweep and a Begetting

_"You must understand," Opalo gasped breathlessly, "it is the means by which our kind empower and sustain themselves; without the taste of the White Smoke we are diminished thusly."_

_"I seek not to judge," Dewar declared unjudgmentally, "but I am curious nonetheless: what is this, the White Smoke, which I have yet to see?"_

_Opalo's long, soft fingers tended to the great round pearl-seeming stone worn on her forehead. "It is the gift of our great goddess Kraukokain; that we may burn these sacred stones and breathe deep of the stuff which they emit is the source of our power." She drew from her many-pearled belt a long glass pipe, into which she set her stone; with the procurement of flame she heated the pipe; and in long slow breaths did she draw in its smoke, which she breathed out in a whisper._

_"Ah! The fire is spreading through my body; I can feel it suffur_

Bill Dewey tried to remember how to spell "suppurate" when the tab opened to his Kickstarter pinged. Kickstarter offered its condolences for his Red Dwarf Kickstarter failing with only 99.45% of its funding left to go, but congratulated him on the 130% completion of the Kickstarter to get Sadie Miller and guest to the Great Outdoor Fight for community improvement purposes. "Good job, Dewey," he said.

He took a moment to check his mail. Yes, every single person he'd sent an invitation to the Ms. Queen of the Beach pageant had answered... save for the one whom he had been banking on more than anything else. He whistled a tune, turned back to his epic erotic fantasy-science-fiction novel, and then he hit up Steven Universe on speed dial.

"Please say Pearl said yes," Dewey said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right!" Steven said. "Pearl, did you ever open that letter from the mayor?"

"Pardon me?" Pearl said, just barely audible over the phone. "Oh, right, that thing. What was it again?"

"An invitation to a beauty pageant! You'd totally steal the show!"

"Huh. Hm. Suppose if I don't have anything better to do, it wouldn't hurt to touch base with the community a little. Alright, I suppose."

"Pearl says she'd be delighted!" Steven said.

"Good... good," Mayor Dewey said. "Thank you very much Steven, and have a Beachtastic day."

"I'm gonna need the good luck!" Steven said, "I've got--" The phone hit the floor of his van. Dewey was already Googling on his laptop as fast as his fingers could carry him.

"what is the most expensive drink" he typed. There were too many results. He needed to narrow it down a bit. He retrieved his phone.

"--not that I'm going to go there myself, but you know!" Steven said.

"Steven, my good man," Mayor Dewey said, "do you know what Pearl's favorite drink is?"

"I remember Garnet saying to keep her away from champagne," Steven said.

"Thank you very much. Have a Beachtastic day!" He remembered to hang up this time, and typed "what is the most expensive champagne."

He found just the thing he needed. He compared the price of Armand de Brignac to his bank account. Then he compared it to the bank account of the Kickstarter. Then he placed an order, and then he fired back up Taste of the White Smoke: Book 1 of the White Smoke Saga.

_suppurating through my body, as the fire it is, in my veins like flame, in my muscles like lightning, in my bones like great marble columns. The taste--it is invincible," Opalo prayed orgasmically._

_"Star-maiden," Dewar proposed delicatley, "dare I taste this tonic which envigorates you?"_

_"Only from my own lips, Earth-son," Opalo purred suggestively. She raised the glass pipe to her lips once more,_

* * *

Dr. Maheswaran took a step back. "Yes, that is perfect."

"Mom?" Connie said. Keeping her voice level was like trying to keep a pinless grenade from exploding. "This isn't a movie reference, I actually can't put my arms down." She glimpsed down at the getup her parents had devised for jai alai camp. "What is this vest and why is it so heavy?"

"We started with an advanced bomb suit," Mr. Maheswaran said, "but then it turned out that they don't have any arm protection, so we commissioned an armorer who lives in Ocean Town to make some custom gauntlets to go with it."

"He lives in Ocean Town?" Connie said.

"Well... near it," her dad said. "On the outskirts. He sells armor and weapons to people going in and coffins to people coming out. He came highly recommended."

"Your mother is very rich," her mom said, "and she cares that you don't die." She flipped up Connie's visor and pinched her cheek. "Isn't that right?"

"I... guess it's alright. You don't expect me to wear this when I go help Steven fight monsters, right?"

"Of course not!" Dr. Maheswaran said, giving her daughter a hug. "We just don't want you dying on the playing field like some kind of chump."

"Apollo Creed died in the ring."

"Yes, and who got the post-Rocky sequel? Hint: his bastard." The good doctor flipped Connie's helmet down. "Go ahead, get some practice in. And good luck, hon!" She pushed Connie towards the garage, where a My First Jai Alai Shuttle kit awaited her on the ground.

"You got it, kid!" Mr. Maheswaran said as Connie entered her third minute of trying to reach the shuttle. He closed the door and left Connie to her devices. The helmet muffled Connie enough that they couldn't hear her shout that the light went off and it was extremely dark now. "Ha, she's a great lady. So brave!"

Dr. Prinyaka Maheswaran lifted the family portrait and pulled a bottle of Wild Turkey from the nook it hid. "Yep, great kid," she said, taking a measured five-second swig. "Ah... she's... just great. And she's busy. So let's have sex." She grabbed her husband by the collar and marched upstairs.

"Yes m'am!" Doug said. "My, you've been full of energy recently!"

"What can I say, it's nice to have--" She stopped halfway up the stairs to take a measured six-second drain from the Wild Turkey. "My God, nobody makes bourbon like Bluegrass. _Fuck_." She took a measured ten-second drink from the Wild Turkey. "What was I talking about?"

"Having sex with your husband?" Doug said.

"I know that. I mean before... after that. Whatever." She stomped her way up the stairs and threw him onto their bed. He struggled to roll over and yank off his shirt at the same time.

"Is it, ah, is it the invite to that beauty contest? Or--maybe it's your--raise at work?" Doug said.

Before he had his undershirt off his wife was already down to her lingerie. He didn't even remember her putting any on this morning. "What can I say," she said, pacing towards the bed like a panther two sheets to the wind. "A lady likes her... impending... time... away... from... her kid," she said. "Shit, did that make you stop bein' horny?"

"No, m'am," Doug said, fumbling with his belt.

"Good. Me neither." And she was upon him.

Meanwhile, Connie tried rolling front to back. Side to side was a no-go; her arms may as well have been bolted in place. Front to back wasn't much easier, the armor's butt and groin plates flopping around as she tried to get back on her feet, but at least she was making more progress and didn't seem to be dislocating anything.

Steven knocked his special knock on the garage. "Hi, Connie! Can I come in?"

"Sure thing, Steven!" Connie shouted.

"Are you there, Connie?" Steven said.

"I'm here, Steven, please help me!"

"Huh... I don't hear you, so I'm coming in to make sure you're there!" Steven pulled the garage door up a foot or so, the gears groaning. "You gotta remember to lock this later." He rolled under the door, pretending to reach back and fetch a hat before closing it again, and then realizing it was way too dark, opening the garage door again, finding a light switch, closing the garage door again, and finally getting around to helping Connie on her feet. He flipped up the bombproof plate. "Hi, Connie! I'm already in, but I can go back out if you'd like."

"Nah, this is good." Connie sighed. "Jai alai equipment."

"Man, your mom and dad really want you to be safe," Steven said. "That's real nice of them."

"It's... yeah, it's nice of them," Connie said. "So, uh, what were you thinking of doing?"

Steven gasped. "How did you know I have a plan?!"

"Because you texted me earlier saying you had a plan."

"Oh, right! Right. Well, I went to Amethyst while she was trolling the ocean, and I said, so if Sadie had a big cool thing happen so she's ready for the Great Outdoor Fight, how can we have a big cool thing happen so we can be ready to go to the Great Outdoor Fight?"

"And she had a plan?"

"Oh yeah. She had a plan. Are your parents gonna be busy?"

"When they close the door on me it usually means they're busy for the rest of the night... so probably."

"Perfect. Alright, I've got my Robin Redbreast outfit, and I brought yours, and..." Steven scooted around her and saw the armor was locked. "Do you have the key to this armor?"

"There's a key? They--they locked _me_ but not the _garage_?!"

"I guess they did. No worries," Steven said, looking around for a large object he could hide behind to change. "We've got this in the bag! And we'll find that key soon as we can."

Neither could guess where the key was right now, and neither would want to know.

* * *

At ten PM in Dewey Park, the Purple Puma elbow-dropped a parked car, exploding it utterly. As it exploded for minutes on end the Puma strode out from the expanding fireball, shaking embers and chunks of shrapnel from her hair. Her normal uniform was complimented with a breastplate, vambraces, and greaves made of aluminum-plated plastic. "YO!" she shouted, hefting up a mighty iron pipe. "By the right of the Pipe of Power, I declare this a Metal Machine match!"

"You heard it here, folks!" Mr. Smiley said, pulling up a chair and speaking into a Bluetooth headset. "For those of you new to Beach City Underground Wrestling, let it be known that ownership of the Pipe of Power enables the wielder to challenge any other competitor to a match under their stipulation! And today, the classic switch-hitter Purple Puma is challenging their own partner Robin Redbreast to a Metal Machine Match! And for those of you who don't know what that is, it's like a normal match, except with outrageous metalized battle armor! And on that note, let's not forget the Kickstarter for our new action figure line--"

Robyn Redbreast vaulted from a tree, landing before Purple Puma. They had swapped their normal outfit for some odd beast with a rigid hood sporting a plastic faceplate, a puffy, shapeless kevlar-and-foam bombproof breastplate over a terribly uncomfortable-looking Kevlar compression shirt, a skirt made of four groin protector flaps, and matching impact-resistant boots and gauntlets. And striped stockings. Those didn't really have an analogue in the armor.

"Damn, child, you came prepared!" Puma said, tossing the Pipe of Power at Mr. Smiley, who ducked out of the way as it lodged itself in an old-growth tree.

"Thanks, Amethyst," Stevonnie mouthed.

Amethyst shot back a thumbs up she swiftly turned towards the side. "You hear that they wanna go to the Great Outdoor Fight? You hear that Beach City? This lil' beast wants to prove themselves in Bakersfield, right along Sadie Miller! Me, I hear Sadie Miller fights ogres and laser clones. Does Robyn Redbreast look like an ogre battler, huh?!"

The crowd which had gathered shouted, some booing, some cheering.

"Hear that, Redbreast? You've got something to prove."

"I'm ready, Purple Puma!" Stevonnie said, preparing to battle.

A referee hung up a bell on the Pipe of Power and rung it.

"The battle begins!" Mr. Smiley said, unnecessarily.

An angry sleet struck the earth as Robyn and Puma met fist-to-face in the middle of the park. The battle began.

From a safe distance away, Mayor Dewey watched from inside the Deweymobile. If this didn't push the hype train into overdrive, nothing would. For the tenth time since he ordered the Armand de Brignac this afternoon, he checked its delivery status.

* * *

Sadie had the run of the temple for the better part of an hour since Lars fell into a trembling, uneasy sleep on Steven's couch. Steven was nowhere to be found, but he was probably alright. The Gems had all fluttered off to do whatever it was they were going to be up to tonight. Sadie took the opportunity to pull on her jacket, tromp outside, around the beach and up the grassy cliff, 'til at last with the lighthouse behind her and the sea before her she came to a stop, slid off her hood, and let herself fade.

Here, alone, buffeted by a shrill and frigid wind, pounded by a vicious sleet, lost in darkness save for distant strokes of lightning in the angry skies, she felt whole, old as the cliff, eternal as the sea.

She felt ready to fight. She could hop on that train tomorrow.

She didn't hear Garnet behind her. "Getting yourself sick, donut child?" she said.

"Ah, nah, just... I don't know. It feels real good out here, alluva sudden."

"It does. But I don't have an immune system which cold, wet weather can compromise." Garnet threw a blanket over her head.

"Har de har." Sadie wrapped the blanket around herself and turned to Garnet, who was pointing to the lighthouse. "Wait, that can.... I mean, we're going in there?"

"We're going up there."

"Alright. Can you pick me up and jump up there?"

"Nah. Let's walk. It's less of a hike."

"Don't you have super-strength and--"

"Less. Of a hike."

It was more of a hike than Garnet had said, but Sadie found herself not having to pause for breath as she hiked up story after story of steps, and that pleased her.

Garnet led her to the balcony outside the lighthouse, facing not the sea but the town, in the shadow of the storm. She could settle for this, vividly cold but less damp, beyond the patter of rain dripping from the roof and onto the guard rails. The shriek of the wind was also muted enough for Garnet to speak at a normal tone of voice.

"Do you know what that armband signifies, child?" Garnet said.

"I didn't really ask. Is it a style thing? Or because he was abandoned by his family?" Sadie said. "Richard, I mean."

"Richard Heaven, to my knowledge, made his peace with being exiled from the Heaven family. No... the armband is something more than that." Garnet pulled a heavy-duty metal thermos from one of her gems, unscrewed the cap and poured out what smelled like hot chocolate and peppermint into it. She offered Sadie the cap; she took a sip, found it was hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and a smear of mostly-melted marshmallows, and took the thermos.

Garnet smiled at her as she finished the cap and turned to the bottle itself. After a few needy gulps, Sadie said, "So, what's it for?"

"Please understand, we kept you in the dark for your sake. If--"

"Garnet, I'm in for keeps. Tell me."

"In the 1969 Fight, Richard Heaven battled his way through some of the most cruel and powerful contenders the Fight had ever seen. It had come down to two warriors, as it must, and opposite Richard Heaven was Earl Morriss. Morriss was a stinking drunk who wandered into the Fight under the misconception that there had been any prize money since the first Fight, so far into delerium tremens that he continually screamed at phantoms and images from his past and future. Richard Heaven was a man in the prime of his life, in perfect condition, who lived for nothing but victory in the Fight.

"As you may recall, Richard Heaven lost, and Earl Morriss won. The strength of Morriss's illness was more than a match for Heaven's physical health and martial prowess. It was the closest Heaven ever came to victory, and the margin of his failure both symbolically and literally was as vast as the Tunguskan Sea."

"How bad did he lose?" Sadie said. She upended the thermos into its cap, trying to scare out any more drink.

"I'll say 'detached retinas' and leave the rest to your imagination. Richard Heaven never recovered. He has never quite come as far as then, and every year fell further, his victories more scant and more ill-gained.

"Earl Morriss, though, was another story. In the greatest depths of his disease, he dared confess his violent acts to a man who drug him out of the gutter and brought him to the light of your human God of the Cross. Thus armed with sobriety and hard-earned martial skill, he proved himself a hero in the Vietnam war, found gainful employment on his return home, and earned the respect and love of his neighbors and brothers in the Fight in the years to come. This is why he is known as the Big Turnaround. His victory in the Great Outdoor Fight was his nadir; his prize was the freedom to live."

Sadie remembered what Heaven's family had to say about him. "Damn. My name's a real winner, huh?"

Garnet drew a book from her other gem. It was a Great Outdoor Fight yearbook, marked 1979. She flipped it open to a particular page. On it were many photos of men sporting black armbands, Richard Heaven among them, lean, stringy, eyes wide and wet.

"In 1978, Earl Morriss was shot to death by policemen, who mistook him for a burglar. The officers were never punished.

"Richard Heaven, the man who had come closest to defeating Morriss in the Fight, outlived the Big Turnaround, and in all his years, never came near to his former height. This is why Richard Heaven was the Untergehen."

Sadie looked out over the city, her eyes pausing at the sight of a vast plume of fire erupting from the park. "So... I'm going in the name of a perpetual failure who never got out from the shadow of a unilaterally superior human being."

"In as many words, yes."

Sadie smiled. "Phew. That's a load off my mind. All I have to do is not suck."

"Hm. I like the way you think, donut child."

"Seriously, though, do you have any more of this."

"Easy, donut child. Save the revelry for once you return a conquering hero." She pat her on the back. "That said, I believe you've earned a little more. Come; let us drink deep of life and find joy." She scooped Sadie up and hopped from the lighthouse to the icy grass below.

"That was totally not a hike!" Sadie said.

"It's more dramatic to walk!" Garnet said.

"And almost getting eaten by an ogre wasn't dramatic enough for one day?"

"I would never eat you. I cannot speak for Amethyst, but I certainly would not partake myself."

"Sure you wouldn't. Bitch, I'm delicious."

* * *

"CHINESE FIRE DRILL!" shouted Purple Puma, hurling a tied-together bundle of black, cylindrical grenades at Robyn Redbreast, the heavy mass clattering at their feet.

"Oh, snap!" Robyn said, picking up the bundle and hurling it away as hard as they could. The flashbangs landed in the intake funnel on a tanker truck of Sandking and Son's Finest Ether, going off with a blinding flash, a deafening boom, and a plume of fire rising hundreds of feet in the air, briefly forming the shape of the devil's laughing face.

(That was due to a Shape-U-Flame buried deep in the mass of the grenades. They were expensive, but Amethyst found them worth the money. Besides, she stole the money.)

The shockwave sent Robyn flying, ears ringing, vision gone white, fading to the tingly black of looking into a camera flash, except a camera flash that filled their whole eye somehow. "Ow," they said, feeling the sound in their throat but not hearing it over the ringing in their ears. "Help. Wake self up. Be able to see and hear soon please--"

The Purple Puma hefted them up and shouted something that sounded probably intimidating, but exactly what she was saying, they couldn't tell.

The Purple Puma was saying, "Behold, your new champion, Robyn Redbreast! Can they even begin to comprehend how powerful I am? I think not! Is this the champion you want to send to the Great Outdoor Fight?!"

"I think the Purple Puma is saying something," Mr. Smiley said, "but I could also still be deafened by that incredible stunt! I'll get back to you right in a jiff!"

"...Okay, I'll wait a minute, Jesus Goddamn Christ," Amethyst muttered.

After a few minutes of breathing exercises and sips of ice water Mr. Smiley was back in the game. "We're back, folks! That stunt seems to have paid off, Robyn Redbreast is utterly helpless in the grasp of the Purple Puma!"

Stevonnie was starting to freeze over. By the time their sight returned the sleet was freezing on their visor and on the rigid parts of their armor. An idea was born. They set about wiggling in Puma's grasp, and Amethyst courteously started losing her grip on them.

"By the gods of man!" Mr. Smiley said, "It looks like the Puma can't keep his grasp on Redbreast! The icy coating on their amazing armor accessories is making it difficult for the Puma to do that thing that they were doing!"

Stevonnie rolled out of Puma's grasp, landing on their feet and doing that cool thing where a cool dude punches his own fist, gently cracking the ice on their knuckle armor. "Come and get me!" Robyn said. "The ice is my ally!"

Purple Puma nodded, just so. "The ice? Your ally? Say that right in my--woah, now!" She stomped forward, only to slip and slide on the sleet-slick grass and damp concrete, stumbling and falling to one knee. Stevonnie wound up and planted a roundhouse punch on her head, sending her flopping onto her back. They stepped back, beckoning the Puma to rise again.

Amethyst flopped haplessly on the ground, struggling to return to her feet. "Nrgh! Argh! All this sleet! It's super hard to exist because of it!" she said.

"Outrageous!" Mr. Smiley said, "Robyn Redbreast seems to have flown northeast for winter, in order to fully align with their apparent chosen element of ice! In the wild, even the Purple Puma can't seem to resist their mastery of the solid state of water!"

The Purple Puma hurled herself at Stevonnie, who slid out of the way and watched the ungainly Puma trip over her own feet and tumble directly into the statue of Mayor Dewey. It seems somehow someone had sawn it free of the base at the ankles, as the statue fell over right on top of her, and then all the C4 strapped to it exploded.

Amethyst clawed her way out of the crater, snarling. "You call that ice? I'll... ice... you... instead!" she said.

"Think we went too hard on--" Stevonnie said to themselves, interrupted by the Purple Puma screeching and charging directly at them. They met her head with a roundhouse kick to the brainpan, sending her flying off at an angle in a spray of ice chips. The Puma stuck the landing, rose to her feet, stumbling at them, shouting terribly cruel things about Stevonnie's presumed biology. Lucky Steven wasn't listening too closely and Connie merely noted the many, many incorrect ideas Amethyst had about how human plumbing worked.

This time they struck Amethyst with an open-palm strike to the chest, halting her momentum, and followed that up with a flurry of strikes to her head and upper body, forcing her back, her feeble defense scattering like wet leaves before Stevonnie's mighty storm of fists and knees and elbows and, at last, a felling stroke from their backside directly launched at the Puma's face, sending them bonelessly crumbling to the ground. Stevonnie straddled her and pulled up her legs--a classic Boston crab.

Mr. Smiley counted down: "One! Two! Three! Three, ladies and gentlemen!" The referee who had done nothing the entire time but stay well away of the explosions rang the bell, figuring, whatevs, he was getting his appearance fee either way.

Stevonnie let Amethyst's legs fall, and lay down on the grass next to her, smiling at the storm.

"Good show, kid," Amethyst said.

"Thanks," Stevonnie said. "So, I don't have to hold back at all when fighting in the Great Outdoor Fight...?"

"Nah, man. They knew what they were signing up for. Go completely nuts. Ah, here comes Mr. Smiley..." The Puma rubbed some dirt on her face and snarled. "You're friggin' lucky Mother Nature was on your side today, Robyn! You get down there to Bakersfield, you can't count on the weather carryin' you to the win!" Amethyst stumbled to her feet, dropping her volume just a smidge now that she was right next to the mic. "Hell, you're gonna be going up against Beach City's favorite daughter, Sadie Miller! I don't know about you--you may be three times Sadie Miller's height, but no way are you three times Sadie Miller's ability to kick ass!"

"Astonishing!" Mr. Smiley said. "You may have bested your mentor, but you've been cast into doubt! What have you to say, Robyn?"

"Do you just repeat pertinent information because you were trained to, or is it actually a problem you have, because it is bothering the heck out of me," Stevonnie said, briefly pulling apart under their helmet. "I mean, uh, thanks for everything and all Purple Puma, but--but I think we can totally go to the place and do the thing! So hard it's like, man, you're never gonna believe how good we are at the fighting of the people, even if it's not cold and wet out, or snowing even! It's very dry in Califearne."

"It is indeed," Mr. Smiley said. "Gentlemen, I don't know about you, but I must say the hype train for the Great Outdoor Fight is going long and strong! Wish Redbreast luck, 'cause they're gonna need every last bit of it in order to take on 3,000 of the mightiest fighters on the planet!" He cut the mic. "Seriously, kid, good luck."

"Thanks!" Stevonnie said, offering a short bow and skipping off, as per Amethyst's instructions. The Purple Puma slinked off into the darkness, shifting from her wrestling form into the inconspicuous form of a bright purple St. Bernard and rolling around in a mud puddle, just for Pearl.

Stevonnie hopped into the Big Donut, which should have been closed but was left totally open, lights on and everything, with only a PLEASE STEAL NOTHING sign taped up by whoever was supposed to be handling the night shift. They popped and locked, spinning and hopping and swinging their hips, working out all the gleeful, nervous energy they had bundled up tight in their muscles.

"Ohh, man!" they shouted. "I can't believe we actually did it!" They fell onto a chair at last, laughing and gasping. "And all it took was getting exploded a few times."

"Steven?

"Yeah, Connie?

"I have to pee."

Stevonnie pulled apart, Steven trapped in Connie's ballistic skirt and gauntlets, Connie with Steven's sleeves and shorts. "ThanksStevenbeearebee!" Connie said, gunning it for the girl's room.

"Godspeed, Connie," Steven said. "And I sure am glad that worked."

He hummed a little ditty to himself.

"I sure hope we can put that armor back together."


End file.
